


Shock to the Heart.

by thesewarmstars



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Angst, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25539868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesewarmstars/pseuds/thesewarmstars
Summary: “How long have you known?” James counters, eyebrow raised and looking smug. Dangerous.“I…I…what?”“How long have you known you fancy men?”Fancy men, Jesus Christ.How the devil has James found out?
Relationships: Jeremy Clarkson/James May
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Shock to the Heart.

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Shock to the Heart.  
>  **Fandom:** The Grand Tour/Top Gear (UK).  
>  **Pairing:** Jeremy Clarkson/James May.  
>  **Rating:** NC-17.  
>  **Warnings:** *dirty talk*  
>  **Word count:** 4,552.  
>  **Summary:**  
>  “How long have you known?” James counters, eyebrow raised and looking smug. Dangerous.
> 
> “I…I…what?”
> 
> “How long have you known you fancy men?” 
> 
> _Fancy men, Jesus Christ._ How the devil has James found out?  
>  **Disclaimer:** I’m making zero dollars off this story. Also, it is fiction.  
>  **AN:** Too much dialogue. Sorry about that. Also seem to have written this in present tense? Sorry about that, too.

There are two days left of filming, and the Colombian night is sweltering. Jeremy sits on the small, deserted patio of their small, mostly deserted hotel with a glass of wine in one hand and the other propped on the railing as he looks out into the darkness. He wishes for a fag.

Suddenly, James appears to his right, elbows on the railing. Jeremy nods hello and they stand in silence for what might feel like an uncomfortably long interval with anyone else but never has with James. 

“I didn’t know, you know,” Jeremy says into the night.

James turns toward him, raising an eyebrow. “I do not, in fact, know.”

“About the car. The Jeep, being gay.”

James snorts, turning back to look out at the town veiled in darkness. “It’s just a car.”

“Hmm,” Jeremy half-agrees. “Hammond’s being very supportive of my new lifestyle.”

“He is.”

“Can’t help but notice you’re not.”

“No,” James confirms, shaking his head.

Confused, surprised and not really understanding why, he ventures, “That sort of thing… bothers you?” He somehow wasn’t expecting it from James, but it bothers a lot of men, Jeremy knows. He has been one of them all his life. Almost all his life.

“It’s just a bit… close to home, is all. I know we’ve made a joke of everything at one time or another, including this before, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it being made a joke of.”

Jeremy stares, uncomprehending of much besides the defiant gleam in James’s eye. “You know we don’t mean it. It’s my job to be offensive – the last thing I’d want to do is hurt you.”

James looks at him for a long moment, then nods. “I think I do know that. Still can’t really bring myself to participate in this one, though.”

“Are you really…?”

James huffs, shaking his head. “You had to have known.”

“I did not, in fact, know.”

James looks up, smiles briefly, and looks away again. It occurs to Jeremy that James had drunk quite a lot of something before he came outside.

Hesitating only a moment, Jeremy asks, “How long have you known, Slow?”

“Since I was fourteen,” James answers, amused.

 _How can he be so cool right now?_ Jeremy wonders.

“How long have you known?” James counters, eyebrow raised and looking smug. Dangerous.

“I…I…what?”

“How long have you known you fancy men?” 

_Fancy men, Jesus Christ._ How the devil has James found out?

“Few years ago I may have started… wondering,” he finally allows. “It’s not a… a… universal thing,” he then insists.

“You started wondering,” James repeats, standing up straight and turning his head past Jeremy’s to face back toward the hotel, his mouth lined up perfectly under Jeremy’s ear. His voice is suddenly something Jeremy barely recognizes, halfway between his usual lecturing tone and a porno. Jeremy freezes stock still, his heart pounding. _What is happening?_

“Did you start wondering about man fucking? How it would feel to have a cock up your arse?”

_Bloody Nora._

“Would you prefer my signature slowness, gradually working you open with my fingers so you’re slick and ready for me? Until you’re aching for it, begging me to fill you up? Rocking into you tenderly and taking care of you, holding you in my arms whilst we both fall apart?”

Jeremy can feel James’s breath against his neck, feel his heat against his side, and truly thinks he might die.

“Or would you rather speed and power? Shall I plunge my cock straight in, taking you like a whore, fast and hot? Thinking only of my own pleasure, taking it out of your body, until I press in so deep you feel me in your throat and I finally, finally come? But I haven’t let you, you’re still hungry for me. So I take your cock in my mouth and let you fuck my face, deep and hard, until you explode.”

James finally pulls back a few inches and looks Jeremy in the face, his eyes like nothing Jeremy has ever seen. “Would you like that? Is that what you wondered?”

Jeremy can feel his eyebrows climb up into his hairline, his eyes boggling unbecomingly. “What the bloody fuck, May?” he all but screeches.

James takes two big steps backward. “Oh, cock,” he mutters, and Jeremy can see his expression closing off, drawing back into himself as he blinks too hard, too quickly. “Cock.”

And then he’s gone. Gone back into the hotel, leaving Jeremy reeling and alone on the patio.

jjjjjjjjjj

They do not speak for days. Jeremy goes so far as to invent mechanical trouble to avoid having to interact too much during the hippo scenes, but he can tell it’s not just him. James is avoiding him as well, and continues to avoid him once they get back home.

Jeremy both misses him and is terrified of him. 

But by the time they are back in front of an audience in the tent, they’ve worked out how to talk to each other without talking to each other. They do not make eye contact and James is stiffer than usual, but Jeremy thinks it is hardly noticeable and certainly better than the alternative.

What is the alternative?

They’re all at the pub, celebrating an end to the first week of the third series. It’s late already, and most of the crew have buggered off back home. Even Richard has gone, and Jeremy wanders outside, wondering if it’s time to call a cab.

After a few moments, his eyes adjust and he realizes the side alley is not so deserted as he thought – James is there, holding a fag and leaning against the brick outer wall of the pub.

“Hullo,” he ventures.

James nods, grinds his cigarette out against the brick. “Clarkson.” He takes a deep breath, turns toward Jeremy, and says, “I need to apologize.”

Jeremy stiffens. Weren’t they not talking about this?

“I got the wrong end of the stick, and misread the situation. Wildly. I hope we can forget about it.”

Had he misread it though, really? Jeremy considers it, allows himself to remember James so sauve and achingly, achingly sexy in the Colombian night. The break he felt inside himself when James shut him out.

“I never did answer you, you know, about when I knew,” he says finally. “I started to wonder at the North Pole. And it turned into a full-blown crisis in Syria.”

James raises his eyes to meet Jeremy’s. “The North Pole? You were the biggest berk. You hated everyone and everything at the North Pole. Particularly… me.”

“Yes.” Jeremy nods, then shakes his head. “Well, sort of. I hated you, and I knew I didn’t want to be there with anyone else. That I could be anywhere with you. And then I realized, in Syria, that I could not be anywhere without you. Took me rather a while to put two and two together, I admit.”

“You always were a bit thick about some things,” James retorts, then, more carefully, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s… I reacted badly, back in Colombia. I was startled, is all; I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Jezza,” James starts, pleading, then turns away abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have been desperately in love with you for two decades, please don’t… if you’re taking the piss or just looking to experiment or… please just bugger off.”

Jeremy’s pulse pounds in his ears and he forgets to breathe for a moment. “I never thought…”

James nods, back still turned. “I figured.”

“No, you stupid man, I had no idea you were a homosexualist, no bloody idea! I never thought that you could want me back, that you could… Even if you were, it could never be for me. You’re so… you’re just so _good_ , while I, I am not good, a decidedly bad person. A bloody wreck of a man. How can you even…?” he trails off, a new thought suddenly occurring to him. “Wait, what about Sarah? Are you only part-gayist?”

James sighs, finally turning back toward him. “Sarah and I, it’s not like that. We’re just good friends, not really together. As a couple. I am… extremely gay.”

 _Extremely gay_. But… “You’ve been telling everyone she’s your girlfried for ages! You’ve been lying to everyone!” He quiets. “Lying to me.”

Scowling, James says, “Well, that was the whole idea. As soon as I realized I… you… when I joined the show, I had to redirect. The show was huge, I couldn’t have the paps finding out.”

“That wonderful woman has agreed to be your beard for _twenty years_?”

James scowls anew. “Well, it wasn’t all for me. It makes her mum happy, thinking she has a man. And keeps everyone from asking questions about her best friend, Helen.”

This startles a laugh out of Jeremy and the scowl retreats from James’s face. “Well, what a convenient arrangement, you both running ‘round behind each others’ backs in front of each others’ faces,” he acceeds, shaking his head. 

The scowl reappears. “I haven’t exactly been a playboy. I’ve always been… discreet.”

This, Jeremy believes, but he cannot think about James with other men and pushes it aside. “You really weren’t ever going to tell us?” _Tell me?_

James shrugs, helpless. “You were my best mate. It was the only way I knew to protect myself.”

“You don’t have to protect yourself from me!”

“I especially have to protect myself from you. Or haven’t you been listening?”

“I have been listening,” Jeremy insists, taking a step forward, and softly repeats, “You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

James looks torn. “I don’t…”

Suddenly, a group of mates laughs across the street, stumbling down the pavement. They aren’t seen, but now they remember themselves.

Jeremy pulls out his phone. “Can we please talk about this? Somewhere else? My place is closest, but we can go to yours if you prefer.”

“Mine, please.”

Jeremey looks up from poking at his phone. “Sarah’s not home?”

“She doesn’t actually live there, you know. You’ve been over often enough in the past; did you think she really spent so many nights ‘on work trips’? She lives with Helen, up the street.”

jjjjjjjjjj

They are silent in the cab, staring out the windows or down at their phones, never at each other. The driver is blessedly mute, as well.

When they arrrive in Hammersmith, Jeremy gestures at the houses as they pass, raising a questioning eyebrow. A block and a half from his own home, James points out a little brown and white house, much like his own, much like all the others on the street. “There.”

“Hi Sarah, hi Helen,” Jeremy whispers, waggling his fingers in a tiny wave, and he sees James smile out of the corner of his eye. He likes making James smile.

Standing outside James’s front door, Jeremy asks, “It is all right if I come in, isn’t it?”

“Bit late to be asking now,” James scoffs as he opens the door. “Make yourself at home.”

They head automatically to the kitchen and James puts the kettle on.

“Were you serious, before?” Jeremy asks, settling into a dining chair while James takes his time picking out the cups he wants to use.

“Could you be slightly more specific?” 

“When you said… about being… desperate.”

James stills, his cheeks going pink. “What possible motivation would there be to say that if it weren’t true?”

“Well, how do I know? Perhaps you were just trying to get into my trousers!”

James scoffs, and Jeremy feels like he should be offended but isn’t. Quietly, he adds, “Perhaps I just wanted to hear you say it again,” and James’s eyes widen.

The kettle whistles. 

James instantly busies himself with the tea things and Jeremy scrubs a hand over his face, wondering whether there is any possibility this whole thing isn’t going to go tits up in the next ten minutes.

Finally, James places a mug in front of Jeremy and seats himself across from him. Jeremy wraps his hands around the too-hot mug, lowering his face into the steam. He inhales, and is comforted by it in the way only an Englishman can be. He barely even likes tea, but it is ingrained.

More centered, now, he looks up. “What happens now? I mean, you seem rather… experienced at this whole – ” he waves his hand vaguely, “gayist thing.”

James rolls his eyes. “Yes, at this point of the proceedings it’s generally decided which one will wear the leather chaps and what type of restraints will be used.”

“Restraints?” Jeremy squeaks, then shakes his head. “I mean, you know what I mean. I don’t know how to do a man-relationship.”

“Relationships are relationships, you pillock. I imagine you know more about it than I do. My… associations have usually been rather… superficial. Is that what you’re interested in, then? A relationship?”

Ignoring that last, Jeremy wonders aloud, “So, what then? It’s always been just sex for you?”

“Erm. Yes? No one’s ever really been interested in anything… more… with me.” James blinks too hard and Jeremy reflexively tries to distract him.

“So you must be _quite_ experienced at the sex part then, to distract them so. Certainly seemed so to me the other week, at least. What’s your favorite bit, then?”

James stares. “What, my favorite sex bit?”

“Yes! Historically, I’ve always been quite partial to boobies and booby-fucking, but I suspect your preference may be different.”

Snorting despite himself, James shakes his head. “How does that even work? No! No, I am not having this converstation with you.”

“Well then, what topic would you like to discuss?” Jeremy offers, magnanimously extending his hand.

After a moment, James asks, “Are you really serious about this? Are you even certain you’re gay? I don’t get the impression you’ve, you know, confirmed things empirically.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “You’re right, I haven’t. And I’m not at all certain.” Anger clouds James’s face and Jeremy rushes to clarify, “I think I may just be a ‘May-ist’ rather than a proper gayist.”

The anger fades to skepticism. “Clarkson, if you’re – ”

Jeremy cuts him off with, “I liked it when you called me Jezza, before. Or Jeremy, that would go down smooth, as well.”

“Jeremy,” James murmers, and Jeremy has to restrain himself from a shudder.

“Anyway,” he continues, “my point is that I am very sure about one thing. And that one thing is you.”

“To be abundantly clear,” James insists, “you mean me and you together, in a man-relationship, where we have homosexual relations. With each other.”

Jeremy gulps. “God, I hope so. Yes, Slow, I am also interested in your penis.”

James drums his fingers on the table and takes a sip of his tea. “To answer your ealier question – yes, I was serious before. I am desperately, desperately in love with you, Jez. Always have been. I cannot tell you how surreal this all feels, like a dream. Like I’m… flying apart.”

Jeremy is up and at his side before he finishes speaking. “I’ll take care of you, James.” He leans down to cup his face, tilting it upward, asks, “Does this feel like a dream?” and kisses him with more gentleness than most would think him capable. “I’ll take care of you,” he repeats, whispering against James’s temple. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

He steps back, straightening, and James looks up, his expression almost baffled. “I love you as well, and I want to do homosexualist things with you, I just don’t know how.” He starts pacing along the table. “I’m sure you can appreciate how hard that is for me to admit, being that I am an _expert_ at all other things.”

James rolls his eyes. “Naturally. Well, what would you do with a woman in this situation? I wouldn’t know, but I can’t imagine it’s all that different, to begin with.”

“Feel up her tits, most likely.”

“You really are a breast man. Okay then, what would you be wanting her to do? As we’ve already established, we’re both men, so chances are whatever feels good to you would feel good to me as well,” James ventures.

“Well, I, I suppose I like kissing quite a bit. It’s always nicest when she goes for it first, of course. I generally just follow her lead, if I’m honest. Makes me feel more… wanted, more secure, to have them take charge a bit, just go for want they want and me along for the ride.”

He pauses in his pacing to glance over at James’s inscrutable face. “I know it’s not really what people expect of me. All bluster and whatnot.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear. I can do the other, of course, quite happily, and I will give you whatever you need. I just want you to be happy. Please say something.”

James stands, looking up at Jeremy. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please.”

And James is reaching up behind his neck, pulling him down, first just a graze of lips, soft and sweet, then he nips and sucks, invading Jeremy’s mouth and drawing out his tongue, drawing out his soul through his mouth like a bloody Dementor in bloody Harry Potter.

Jeremy responds in kind, clinging urgently to James and learning his mouth, his teeth, and the way his hair feels between Jeremy’s fingers, the way their noses nestle alongside each other even as Jeremy bites at James’s lower lip. James’s hands, having gradually travelled down Jeremy’s back, complete their journey by giving his arse a squeeze and pulling him closer. 

Jeremy rips his mouth away to groan, his chest heaving, somehow, after everything, still startled at the thrill of feeling James’s arousal pressed into his thigh.

“You like that?” James purrs.

 _Does he bloody like it?_ “Of course, you daft sod. And I like that you’re taller than all – well, you’re tall enough I don’t have to break my back to reach you.”

“Glad you haven’t broken anything, but I like that you’re taller than me, much taller than any… it feels quite different, anyway, and I like it. How tall are you, anyway?”

“Six foot five?”

“Bloody hell. You don’t notice so much from far away, but. Yes, I like it. I like you, I like your mouth.”

“You’re brilliant, May. I can’t wait to see what other tricks you’ve got up your sleeves.” He presses his hips forward. “Or down your trousers, as it were.”

James snorts, and cups his jaw. “Can you call me James? Please? At least while we’re fucking?”

Jeremy groans. “Christ, if there’s going to be fucking soon, I’ll call you whatever you like. I still don’t… I mean, I still don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to make you happy. I want to make you feel good, James.”

“You are making me feel good, don’t worry so much. Can’t you tell?” 

“Yes, I can tell. Can I see? Can I touch you?”

“God yes, Jezza,” James practially growls, “But I think the first step is adjourning to somewhere more comfortable.”

“You gonna tie me up in your sex dungeon, then? Have you decided on the restraints?” Jeremy asks, following James toward the bedroom.

“You wish,” James scoffs.

They arrive much more quickly than Jeremy anticipates, and he stands halfway between the doorway and the bed wondering what he is supposed to do next. Fidgeting. 

James turns. “Hold still,” he says, hands going to the top button of Jeremy’s shirt. They open quickly, too quickly, and Jeremy moves automatically in some hopeless attempt to disguise his gut.

“Don’t,” James implores, pushing the shirt off Jeremy’s shoulders, “don’t. I want to see you. I’ve longed to see you.”

“You’ve seen me before, and it is not a pretty sight.”

James shakes his head. “Not like this. Not where I’m allowed to look, to touch, all for me. You are overwhelmingly beautiful, Jeremy.”

Jeremy swallows. _Well, that’s just crap._ “I want to see you, too,” he says instead.

“A moment,” James murmers, hands running over Jeremy’s chest, around his stomach, warm and steady against his back, before circling back around. 

He startles a moan out of Jeremy by squeezing his nipples, and Jesus Christ, how has he not known this about himself? and that is just not on. “Take off your bloody stupid shirt,” he pleads.

James has it off before Jeremy understands what’s happening, and then he’s back, raking his hands down Jeremy’s torso and going at his belt, his buttons, and how is this all going so fast? Where is Captain Slow?

Jeremy plucks ineffectually at James’s trousers until James takes over, undoing his own flies, and Jeremy offers, breathless, “I swear, I’m not usually so…”

“Helpless?” James smirks.

“No!” Jeremy insists, “Just… just… How are you so good at this?”

James crowds Jeremy against the wall, pulling his trousers off completely and pushing his whole body against Jeremy’s, and it is the best thing Jeremy has ever felt. 

“This,” James whispers against Jeremy’s ear, “this is my favorite bit. Being good at it.” He kisses a line down Jeremy’s neck to his collarbone, hands everywhere. “Making him want me so much he can’t think straight. Making him feel things he had no idea I could make him feel. They’re always so surprised when I’m good at this – are you surprised, Jeremy?”

“Bloody hell,” is all Jeremy can say, though after James’s little performance in Colombia, he certainly shouldn’t be.

Smirking again, James goes to turn down the blankets and Jeremy stares. “James, I have to say, I very much like the look of your bottom.”

James looks coyly back over his shoulder. “Ogling my arse, are you? Perhaps you’re properly gay, after all.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. All I want is you – you’re all I ever want.” 

“Come and have me, then,” James answers, pulling Jeremy by the hand to the bed, pushing him until he sits, crawling over him until he lays back, covering him with his body, kissing him until he can’t breathe, doesn’t even want to breathe, moving down so subtly Jeremy only realizes he’s left when James sucks Jeremy’s nipple into his mouth.

“Bloody Nora, you’re brilliant, James, please don’t ever stop.” Jeremy can feel James smiling around his nipple, still suckling. _Christ._

He does stop, though, and sits up a bit, moves to straddle Jeremy’s hips, his knees either side of Jeremy’s waist, cradling him. James budges up a bit, his balls brushing against Jeremy’s, and eyes he had not realized were shut snap open again, going straight to James’s cock. Jeremy has never seen another man erect before, and it looks huge. “You’re leaking,” he says.

“Yes,” James affirms, gathering the shining pearls of fluid from the tip of his own cock and smearing it down Jeremy’s, and Jeremy cannot contain his groan at how bloody hot this is. “You’ve done this to me,” James growls, wrapping one hand around Jeremy’s erection and grabbing Jeremy’s hand with the other. “All splayed out in my bed like an offering, waiting for me. Wanting me.”

Locking his fingers with Jeremy’s, he brings their hands between them, wrapping their hands around their cocks together and squeezing.

“The idea of your cock touching mine is doing things to me, James. Your penis against mine has got to be the most arousing thing I’ve ever felt.” And it is, it bloody is. It’s been a few years since Jeremy’s been with anyone by this point, but he is quite certain it’s never been this good.

“You like my cock?” James asks. “You like me touching you with it, rubbing it all over you? Are you wondering things again, Jez? Wondering how it would feel splitting you open, arse in the air, as I take you? Are you wondering how my arse would feel, clenched around you, hot and tight? Shall I moan for you?”

And he does, and it pierces into Jeremy’s chest, lodging there, doing things to him that he never wants to end. 

When James reaches his free hand between them, fondling Jeremy’s balls, pressing against his perineum, Jeremy gasps. “James, I can’t… I can’t…”

Groaning, James shakes his head, moves their hands faster, rubs against Jeremy’s hole with the pad of his finger. “Don’t hold back. I want to see you. I want to see you come all over me.”

Jeremy’s cock jerks and he cannot help himself, he throws his head back and comes, and James whispers, “Jeremy, I love you. I love you,” and comes with him.

After, James collapses against him, sticky and breathing harshly. Jeremy struggles to get his bearings, to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. “That was… that was… I can’t… I love you so, James, and I…” He looks down, wanting to see James’s face, and finds him licking semen off his hand. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Why, is it working?” James asks, his grin a bit evil.

“Yes, you daft prat! A man my age has to be careful you know, of shocks to the heart.”

“Shocked your heart, have I?” James asks, quieter now, softer.

“Yes,” Jeremy answers, “yes.”

They lie quietly for a moment, sweat drying, breath slowing. Jeremy boggles at the perfection of it.

“You know,” James begins hesitantly, “I would understand. If the sex was what you really wanted, I would undertand. I know that I’m good for some things, but I’m not… being with me, beyond that, is hardly – ”

“James, no,” Jeremy interrupts, heart nearly breaking. “No, you can’t – Don’t say that. I won’t allow it.” He squeezes James tighter. “Those other blokes, they’re mental. You are good for all the things, James, all the things. For always.”

James glances up from Jeremy’s chest. “Always?”

Jeremy mentally back-pedals. “Well, obviously I’m quite difficult to live with, and I still have no idea what I’m doing. I ruin things on a fairly regular basis, so I know, I can’t expect – ”

“You can, Jezza, you should. You should expect it. I know you’re difficult, of course you are, but you’re worth it. You’re worth everything to me.”

“Well.” Jeremy swallows, feeling a bit wobbly. He kisses James’s hair. “This is all getting a bit soppy, isn’t it?”

James snorts. “You’re a great, big sop and you know it.”

“Yes, I am. You’re not though, Mr. James “Men don’t talk about feelings” May. I know it’s hard for you. You’ve done spectacularly well, but it makes you uncomfortable.”

“ ‘Spectacularly well’, eh?”

“Oh, sod off,” Jeremy huffs. “This is no time to be fishing for compliments. I, quite generously and thoughtfully, was offering to change the subject.” He pauses, adds, “You are spectacular.”

“Right, then,” James says decisively, “that bit earlier, about you being diffcult to live with. Am I moving in with you, or are you coming here? Your house is bigger, but it’s bloody never going to be finished.”

A moment of shocked, still silence, then Jeremy laughs. “Practical, as ever. Never change, James. Never change.”


End file.
